Tip of My Iceberg

In poker parlance, that title makes no sense.

I know. I learned to play poker when I was five.

We grew up playing card games. Canasta, Crazy 8’s, Old Maid. Poker was just another card game.

Our favorite chip of choice was the little silver disc that was popped out of electrical outlets in new homes. Sunday afternoons we’d drive around looking for new construction to add to our pile of chips.

I know my cards.

In poker, a pair is two of a kind.

What I’m talking about isn’t cards. It’s boys.

Grandboys to be exact.

We had the distinct privilege of having most of our girls home to celebrate Tiffany’s soon-to-come baby girl. Huck and his mom, Jillian, came from Texas. The first time he’s been able to engage his cousin, Ryken, in significant relational exchanges.

The exchanges consisted of grunts, squawks and looks of incredulity to be around someone else their size.

They’re only nine days apart in age. Twins from another mother.

They both have amazing smiles and blond hair. They both love stairs. And constant motion.

Similarities end there.

Huck is a first-born. He’s been walking since he was 11 months old. He eats sandwiches and chews food pretty well. He paces himself when eating. Every now and again he’ll store food in his cheek. A little chipmunky.

Ryken is a fifth-born. He gets carried wherever he or anyone else wants him to go. He has no need to walk. He could care less. He chews his food but often neglects to swallow. He puts everything into his mouth at once. Like a puppy afraid the big dog will take his food from him.

They’re two of a kind. Similar, but not the same. It’s the gene pool. The Rogers’ effect imprints itself indelibly.

They’re a microcosm of people in general.

We’re all part of the family of man. Made in the image of God–whether you believe that or not.

With similarities that irrevocably mark us as related. No matter our ethnicity, color, continent or language.

All of us are born into a broken world. With hearts that yearn for hope and heaven. For something better.

All of us undermine our hope with our own brokenness. With our inability to do life right. To be perfect.

That’s why Jesus came. To offer us His best. His perfection to cover our brokenness. His light to shine through our darkness.

We’re different, but the same. No matter our story. No matter our heritage. No matter our address.

We need hope.

“Jesus told him, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one can come to the Father except through Me.’”   John 14:6

We need life. Real life. Life bigger than a next paycheck or the challenges we won’t face or pain that exists in our lives.

Jesus offers life. No strings attached. Just believe.

Then He links us to Him in love.

A stronger bond than two little guys on the same family tree.

I’ll gladly play that hand.